


Frogs and Fractures

by embalmer56, sadistically_sweet



Series: The 'Co-' Series [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Age Play, Broken Bones, Diapers, Dummies, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Little Jawn, Little Sherlock, M/M, Non-Sexual Age Play, mentions of spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-19 01:35:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8184055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embalmer56/pseuds/embalmer56, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadistically_sweet/pseuds/sadistically_sweet
Summary: Broken bones are bad enough. Broken bones on a 40 year old toddler are even worse.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> -a little RP that turned into a big fic  
> -unbeta'd, unbrit picked  
> -mostly finished!!!!

[  
](http://sadieandmo.tumblr.com/)“I y’ove ‘em.” Jawn holds the mobile of frogs up that Nana made for him up, “they hasta go o’ber our bed bu’ you dumb bees taked alla room!”

“Shuddup! Theys not dumb!”

"They's b’ery dumb, 'cept Humphrey. He's ok." Jawn nodded. Humphrey was Jawn's favorite bee. Even though Sher'yock had been reluctant to share this with him, Jawn had staked a claim on the best of the bees.

"You frog's is stupid," Sherlock shot back, his cheeks red. "They don' e'ben ha'b names!"

"Jus' cause you dun know 'em, dun mean they dun has names." Jawn turned his nose up at Sherlock.

"They still dumbs," Sherlock sneered. "Go 'head, go puts them up by you-self," he said, practically shoving Jawn out of the room.

"I will! Cause I dun wan' you gross p'ingers on my f'wogs!"

"You g'woss," Sherlock snapped back, and slammed the door in his face.

Jawn stood on the outside of the door, lip wobbling for a minute before he puffed his chest and headed down the stairs to the nursery. He'd put up his amazing frog mobile by himself. And if all the bees but Humphrey went missing, well...

Sherlock flopped down on the bed, fuming. His bees weren't stupid. Jawn was stupid. He and his dumb frogs could just stay down there forever.

It was quiet in the flat for a few moments before a loud crash and a terrified wail had Sherlock racing down the steps two at a time.

He burst into the bedroom, where he found one of the kitchen chairs lying on its side next to the bed...and right next to it was Jawn, wailing and clutching his elbow. Sherlock's heart jumped into his throat, and tears stung his eyes. "Jawn!?" He dropped to his knees next to Jawn, but was unsure if he should touch him or not. "Jawn, you okay?!"

Jawn shook his head, bodily turning from Sherlock when he reached out a wobbly finger to touch. Sherlock started to panic. Nana wasn't home. They were supposed to call a grown up when they ended up small together. "We gotsa call a doctors." Sherlock shot up to find his phone but stopped in the doorway when Jawn's cries got impossibly louder.

Sherlock stood there and reached up to clutch handfuls of his hair. He didn't know what to do first. "I haf'fa get my phone, Jawn!" He said tearfully, and darted into the kitchen to the drawer where they kept their phones when they were little. He fumbled with it clumsily and ended up calling the last number that had called him...Greg. “‘ey, Sherlo--"

"Jawn felled," Sherlock said, his voice shaking. "An' I can't touch 'im."

"Are you at home?" Sherlock nodded, forgetting for a moment G'eg couldn't see him.

"Yea. G'eg halp." There was suddenly a lot of activity on the other end of the phone, Greg shouting at someone Sherlock couldn't see.

"Good boy, why can't you touch him, love?"

"He doesn' wan' me too." Sherlock was suddenly sobbing. "I dun' know whata do."

"Okay, where is Jawn right now?"

"In'na, in'na bedroom," Sherlock stammered.

"Okay, I need you to go stay next to him, okay? Can you do that for me?"

"Y-y'ah." Sherlock walked back into the bedroom, where Jawn was still wailing. "What I do?!" he asked Greg frantically.

"It's alright, just calm down." Greg juggled his phone while he got his suit coat on. "We're gonna be right there...what's Jawn doing right now?"

"C'ying."

"Which part of him hurts?"

"Jawn hol' his el-elb-elbo-w." Jawn's crying making Sherlock's tears rush to match pace.

"Can he bend it?"

"Jawn...Jawn, p'ease, G'eg say can you bent you arm?" Sherlock hollered over Jawn's wailing. Sherlock nudged closer but Jawn hid his sore elbow between the vee of his legs.

"He won' le' me see!" Sherlock sobbed.

"Sherlock, sweetheart, it'll be okay." Greg had skipped the elevator in lieu of taking three flights of steps, then rushed to his car. "Now tell me...can you see if Jawn's bleeding anywhere? Did he hit his head?" Sherlock stuck his thumb in his mouth and shook his head.

"Sherlock...did Jawn hit his head? Greg asked, letting the urgency he felt slip into his voice.

"I dun' f'ink so," Sherlock moaned.

"Can you give Jawn the phone? Can I ask Jawn?"

"He won' take it."

"Can you put it by his ear?" The wailing got louder for Greg as Sherlock wedged the phone against Jawn's ear. "Jawn, my little monkey, are you ok?"

"H-hhh-hhur's."

"Does your head hurt?"

"E-eh-evvry'fffing!"

"Can you tell Uncle Greg what happened?"

"I doooooooon't knooooooooow!' Jawn wailed, rocking back and forth on the floor.

"I know, I know, I'm almost there, big boy." Greg ran right through a red light. "Just hold on, and keep talking to me."

Sherlock held the phone to Jawn's ear, tears pouring down his face. Jawn was hurt, it was his fault, and he was going to be in huge, massive trouble.

"I d-ddun know where da' f'ogs." Jawn sobbed into the phone.

"The fogs?"

"Y-y-yyost."

"You lost the fogs?" Greg pulled in front of the flat, parking illegally. "I don't know what that means, sweetheart." Greg found the front door unlocked, something he'd scold them about later. He could hear Jawn all the way from the foyer.

Greg shoved his phone in his pocket and took the stairs to the flat two at a time, only to find their door locked. Of course. Couldn't have been that easy.

He banged on the front door and Sherlock jumped, dropping his phone, then scrambled up from the floor and ran to open it. After fumbling with the lock and chain, Sherlock let Greg into the flat. Greg rushed in, nearly breathless, but immediately saw Sherlock staring at him, wide-eyed and shaking, and he tried to keep calm.

"Where's Jawn, sweetheart?" Sherlock pointed to the nursery, and Greg jogged past him down the hallway. "Jawn?!"

" 'eeeeeggggg." Greg found Jawn sitting on the floor of the nursery, his tomato red little face covered in snot and tears. He held up his uninjured arm in a plea to be picked up. The other he held close to his chest.

"Aww, sweet boy, what happened?" Greg plopped himself on the floor and carefully pulled Jawn into his lap. Jawn squealed when Greg touched his elbow. "We're going to have to go to the A&E." Greg kissed the top of Jawn's head. Sherlock stood in the doorway of the nursery, arms wrapped around himself, bawling.

 

Greg saw that neither of the boys were fully dressed. Nor were either of them in nappies. Which meant they both went little around the same time, which _also_ meant they'd been arguing about something with each other, because that always made them go little at once.

"Sherlock, love, I'm going to give you a big hug in a moment, but I need you to go get yours and Jawn's shoes for me, okay?"

Sherlock nodded, giving himself a squeeze before he disappeared down the hallway.

"Come on, love. You're going to have to go in your jams." Greg slowly eased Jawn off his lap, rubbing his back when Jawn tried to cling to him. Greg was strong but he couldn't get off the floor and lift Jawn at the same time. "It's alright, sweetheart. You're going to be okay." Greg stood quickly and tugged Jawn off the floor with his good arm.

Jawn was still crying and clutching his elbow, but it was becoming obvious that the whole experience was starting to take a toll on him. Greg suspected that if that elbow was broken, like he thought it was, Jawn might be starting to go into shock.

"Sherlock," he called out, after sitting Jawn on the end of the bed. "Are you finding your shoes like a good boy?" Sherlock bumbled down the steps, nearly tripping off the last one, and held out two pairs of shoes. "Hey, hey, hey..." Greg spoke calmly. He didn't need the other baby hurting himself. "Look, look at me, Sherlock...it's okay, love. Take a deep breath, alright? Jawn's gonna be okay."

"M-mmm-mmy f-ffaul'," Sherlock stuttered out between gulping sobs.

"Oh, baby." Greg pulled him into the promised hug, squeezing him tight but quick. "We'll figure that out later. We need to take Jawn to a doctor. Can you be my best boy and help me."

"H-hh-halp." Sherlock nodded.

"That's my good boy. Put your shoes on." Greg took John's shoes and knelt before the little doctor, quickly putting them on him. John's wails had dried up and now he was crying almost silently.

Greg looked over his shoulder to see if Sherlock was ready...the poor thing had his shoes on the right feet, at least, but he just couldn't get them tied. "Here, baby boy," Greg said, and took over. "Listen, you did the right thing by calling me, yeah? You knew what to do, and I'm proud of you."

"Y-you are?" Sherlock stammered, wiping his hand across his soaked face.

"Yeah, hugely proud." Greg leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "But now we've got to get Jawn to the hospital. Your brother's meeting us there."

"M-My'coff?"

"Yeah." Greg tightened the bow on Sherlock's trainer and patted his leg. "Can you go get Jawn's jacket for me?" Sherlock nodded, then scurried up from the floor.

"C'mere, sweetheart, yea, such a good boy." Greg gently pulled Jawn to his feet. Jawn lifted his arm, expecting to be picked up. "I'm sorry baby. I can't pick you up without hurting your arm."

"'p, 'p, 'p, 'p..."

Greg frowned at him before gently scooping him up, both arms under his bottom. Jawn shivered and moaned but otherwise snuggled closer.

Sherlock skidded into the room, his coat on and Jawn's in his arms. "Clever boy. You knew what I was going to ask next." Sherlock hiccuped, not even registering Greg's words. Sherlock gently draped Jawn's coat over his back. "Good job. Let's go." Greg guided them out of the flat and down the stairs.

"Jawn's going to sit up front with me, so--wait, wait wait wait!" Sherlock stopped, one foot off the curb as he was going to open the passenger side door...Greg had forgotten that he'd parked with that side in the street. "No, you get in on this side, lad; stay out of the street."

"Bu'd I..."

"I know, you were going to help, but I need you to listen." Greg carried Jawn past him, then set him on his feet while he opened the car door and bundled him in. "Climb in, Sherlock."

Sherlock slide into the seat behind Greg, fastening his seatbelt without prompting. Greg hopped in and turned the heat on. John's teeth chattered as he sat shivering in his seat. Definitely in shock then. Greg pulled into traffic, speeding but otherwise careful. He wished he'd thought to bring a panda car.

"G'eg?"

"Yea, Sherlock?"

"Jawn?"

Greg glanced at Sherlock in the rear view mirror, most of his fingers were in his mouth. "You're both going to be fine." Greg pulled into the A&E. Mycroft was standing with a medical team who immediately came to collect Jawn.

Jawn was instantly sat in a wheelchair and rushed away, Greg hot on their heels. Sherlock went to follow, but Mycroft caught his waist. "No, you're staying with me, little boy." Sherlock watched Greg and Jawn disappear behind a set of double doors, but he let Mycroft take his hand and lead him to the adjacent waiting room, where they sat in a semi-secluded corner.

Mycroft was quiet while he let Sherlock process everything.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Unbeta'd

"Jawn falled." Sherlock whispered. Mycroft intercepted his hand before his thumb could get to his mouth. Mycroft held it in his lap and patted it. "My faul'."

"Jawn knows he's not allowed to stand on furniture."

Sherlock shook his head sadly, "I din' halp wif da' f'wogs." Sherlock's face crumbled, tears rolling unbidden, "I dun' e'ben know they names."

Mycroft shushed him gently. "Whatever happened, it was an accident. And you knew enough to call for help. That's the important part." Sherlock started to cry.

"I was mad a'd him."

"It happens."

"I yelled."

"That's not why he fell, Sherlock." Mycroft gave his hand a squeeze, then reached for the small box of tissues that every table had and plucked one out. "Jawn is going to be fine, and that's because of you," Mycroft said as he dabbed his little brother's cheeks.

Sherlock nodded but he was far from convinced. Without his thumb or a dummy, he had few options to self sooth. Mycroft pulled him into a one armed hug and rubbed his arm. "After Jawn is all patched up, perhaps you both can come spend the night."

"No. I gotsta fin' the f'wogs for Jawn."

"I will help you with that tomorrow. What should we order for dinner? Something Jawn will like."

"Jawn y'ikes toast."

"Yes, but maybe Jawn like something more substantial for dinner."

Sherlock turned his face into Mycroft's collar. "F'wogs."

"I don't think Jawn or your Uncle Gregory are that adventurous." Mycroft kissed Sherlock's clammy forehead. "...What about pizza? You both like that, don't you?" Sherlock sniffed and nodded.

"Then that's what we'll have. We'll order whatever you both want."

"B'edsticks?"

"Of course."

"Big bi'thcit?"

"They have those?"

Sherlock nodded again and peered up at his brother.

"...How big?"

Sherlock sat up and held his arms out in a big circle.

"We'll get two, then."

Mycroft's phone buzzed. He checked the message, keeping the phone screen away from Sherlock.

"Jawn? Jawn okay? We dinna' bringed his phone. G'eg! Is Jawn?"

"Jawn has broken his elbow. They are taking him for X-rays so they can set the bone."

"Broked..." Sherlock whispered, the tears that had abated, back and worse than before.

"They gave him medicine so he's not in pain. Uncle Gregory says Jawn is very loopy." Mycroft glanced at the other patrons in the sitting room. They were all too consumed with their own grief to notice them. Sod it. He pulled Sherlock into his lap.

"Broked Jawn."

"He's going to be fine. He's very excited to get a green cast."

"G'een?" Sherlock pulled away to look at Mycroft.

"Of course...whenever someone gets a cast, they're allowed to pick whatever colour they want. What else would Jawn pick?"

Sherlock didn't bother replying. He sighed shakily and sank down in his brother's lap, and lay his head against his chest.

"We'll be going home as soon as they're done," Mycroft murmured, pressing his lips to the top of Sherlock's hair. "They won't do the cast until tomorrow, anyway."

Sherlock tilted his head back to look up at Mycroft. "They won't?"

Mycroft shook his head. "They have to let the swelling go down first; you know that. You've broken enough bones, too."

"Oh." Sherlock settled back down and, now that his brother wasn't holding his hand, stuck his thumb in his mouth. "Ca' we go see 'im?"

"Not while they're in x-ray, darling. We'll see them in a few minutes, though."

Sherlock was quiet for a moment; "Can draw on Jawn's cas'?"

"Only with his explicit permission."

"Wha'?"

"Only if Jawn says it's okay."

"D'waw him some f'wogs."

Mycroft gave him a squeeze and they sat quietly until Greg pushed a wheelchair bound Jawn into the waiting room. The little doctor's arm was in a sling across his chest and his pupils were blown wide from his meds.

"Jawn! I' so'wwy, Jawn. P'ease. So'wwy." Sherlock slid off Mycroft's lap onto the floor and put his head on Jawn's knee.

"Shhhhhr'laaa'k." Jawn giggled, his head falling back as if on a spring.

"We need to get this one fed and into bed."

"This one as well. Come on, Sherlock." Mycroft tugged on his baby brother's arm until he was standing.

"My kingdom for a carseat," Mycroft muttered as they wheeled Jawn outside. He pulled out his phone and texted for his car to be brought around while they waited at the curb.

"He's not that bad," Greg replied. In the same moment Jawn tried to stand up, and Greg quickly put his hands on his shoulders. "No, no, no, no...Jawn sits."

Mycroft eyed them...hell, even Sherlock was still sucking his thumb. "How was he back there?"

"Shock had him quiet, until they gave him pain meds...then they just thought it was the trauma and him being goofy."

"Oh lord," Mycroft sighed as his big, black car pulled up. He opened the back door and ushered Sherlock inside. "What did he say?"

"Asked for Daddy a lot."

"Fantastic."

"Wadn't all that bad," Greg added as he stood at Jawn's other elbow. "Yeah, now it's time to stand up...good boy."

"Not that bad?" Mycroft repeated, clearly skeptical.

"Yeah...nurses thought he was cute."

"Jawn's my Jawn!!!" Sherlock squawked, trying to climb back out of the car.

"Sit down and buckle your seatbelt." Mycroft barked as he bodily forced Sherlock back and into his seat. Mycroft sat down and extended his arms, helping guide Jawn into the seat beside him.

"My Jawn." Sherlock grumbled, his thumb back in his mouth, a finger twisted in his curls.

"This is all very charming, but how'n hell did this become our evening?" Greg asked, the smile on his face taking the sting out of his words

"I'd bloody well like to know that, too," Mycroft muttered as he buckled Jawn in, careful not to let the strap of the seatbelt press against his arm. "But I don't think we'll be getting a clear answer until tomorrow."

Jawn looked up as if he wasn't aware of Mycroft until that very moment. A big, lazy smile slowly spread across his face, and he nuzzled against the man's shoulder. "Hiiiii, My'coff!"

"Hello, Jawn."

"Myyyyy'crofff," Jawn slurred, giggling against Mycroft's sleeve.

"Oh, God."

"I broked my 'ello."

"I know that. But they fixed it, didn't they."

"Gonna get g'een!"

"We's havin pizza a' b'edsticks f'ur dinner, Jawn." Sherlock nudged Jawn's foot with his own.

"I y'oooooove b'eds'icks."

"Pizza?" Greg asked.

"Finger food."

Greg nodded and pulled out his phone and rang for delivery.

"G'eg! G'eg! Two biscuits, G'eg! They's big," Sherlock held out his arms to demonstrate; "We nee' two."

Greg cocked an eyebrow at him before glancing at Mycroft. The British government had a pinched expression on his face. "He was crying."

Greg smirked; “That’s not a valid excuse, Gregory,’" he snarked at his phone while he typed.

"Shut up. I think it's a much-needed treat after today."

"Wasn't arguing, lovey. What does everyone want on their pizza?"

"O'yives!" Sherlock piped up.

"Olives?"

"And shi'ken!"

"Olives and chicken, got it."

"Add onions and peppers," Mycroft piped in.

"Got it. What else?"

"Jawn jus' y'ikes cheese and roni's."

"Soooo, everything they've got then."

"Pie'apple." Jawn leaned heavily on Greg's shoulder, his eyes mostly closed. "I y'ike it."

"Thas disgus'ing." Sherlock stuck out his tongue.

"Pineapple on the side."

"Pie'apple ona pee'za."

"There's no nappy bag in this car, is there?" Greg asked, eyeing Jawn's half asleep little face.

"No, but we're nearly home."

"An accident would be a nightmare at the mo'."

"There's nothing we can do about that right now, Gregory." Mycroft said, his voice clipped. "Seats can be cleaned, clothes can be washed, infants can be bathed."

"I ca' help," Sherlock said, leaning forward expectantly.

"You've already been extremely helpful," Mycroft said, patting his knee.

"I ca' still helps Jawn wi'ffa ba'ff."

"Don' needa ba'ff," Jawn mumbled.

"Even if there are bubbles and toys in the bath?" Greg asked.

"He'll fall asleep and then how will we get him out?"

"Least we wouldn't have to bother with a nappy." Greg shrugged, putting his phone away.

"S'eep ina tub? Me too?!" Sherlock bounced in his seat. "S'umber par'y, Jawn!" Jawn gave a jaw-cracking yawn and smiled at Sherlock without opening his eyes.

Mycroft just patted Jawn's shoulder without bothering to correct either of them. As it stood now, he was sure that it would be best for Jawn to sleep somewhere contained, by himself, to keep from rolling or getting rolled on. No reason to bring it up now and traumatize the both of them further. They began to pull up the drive to Mycroft's house.

"Jawn...wake up, monkey." Greg nudged his knee. “It's almost time for pizza."

"Pee'za." John slurred, struggling to open his eyes, “ ‘m b'ery hungry."

"I'll bet. It's been a long day and we're all starved." Greg swung the door open and got out of the car. Mycroft unbuckled Jawn's seatbelt and then used his weight to slide himself and Jawn across the seat.

"Come on, nugget, up you get." Greg helped Jawn stand up and then looped an arm around his waist to keep him on his feet. Mycroft followed him out, straightening his jacket.

"Waiiii'! I s'uck! Halp!!!!" Sherlock wailed from the backseat.

"That's the one that's gunna be a monster to deal with tonight." Greg inclined his head toward the car before he carefully got Jawn walking to the door.

Mycroft sighed and leaned back in the car. "You're not stuck," he said calmly. "Just push the button on the...yes, that one, very good." Sherlock let the seatbelt zip back with a loud clack of metal against metal and scrambled to get past Mycroft and out of the car.

"Wai', Jawn!!...”

"You're both going to the same place...Sherlock, _stop_."

"Bu'd Jawn..!"

"Jawn is fine, Gregory has him." Mycroft could feel his younger brother shaking with nervous energy as he held him still. "You need to take a deep breath, and slow down. The worst part is over."

"Jawn gosta hab a cas'." Sherlock looked after Jawn and Greg as they mounted the three shallow steps to the porch, inching away from Mycroft to follow.

"Yes. And that will be okay, too." Mycroft caught the little detective's sleeve. "Sherlock. Look at me." It took him several tries before he was looking Mycroft full in the face.

"Jawn hurted."

"I know. But you won't help him by knocking him down by rushing. Deep breath," Mycroft took a deep breath, Sherlock followed a bit shakily. "Good boy. We must be gentle with Jawn for now. Alright?"

"Myc! Bring the house key! I left mines at the office."

Mycroft took another deep breath. "Your Uncle Gregory is a clot. Let's go. But **don't** run," Mycroft reminded him as he let Sherlock out of the car. He did walk, but at a quickened pace. Mycroft sighed as he shut the door and followed, while the car pulled away towards the garage.

"How did you forget your keys?!" Mycroft called.

"I was in a rush, in case you've forgotten!"

"They were supposed to be in your pocket, you egg!"

"Quit shouting at me!"

"I'm not shouting, I'm stating!"

"Quit stating so loudly!"

Mycroft muttered under his breath as he fished his keys out of his pocket and climbed the stoop. " **You** were shouting."

Sherlock was standing as close to Jawn as he could get without touching him. He whispered something into the little doctor's ear that made him giggle.

"Come on, Myc. Before the pizza gets here." Greg quipped.

Mycroft shot him a deadly glance and swung the door open. "You are very lucky you are helping Jawn at the moment, Gregory Lestrade."

"G'eg'ry 'estraD!" Jawn chirped, giving Greg moon eyes.

"Yes, sweet boy. That is my name."

"Y'ove, y'ove, y'ove, G'eg'ry 'estraD!!" Jawn singsonged.

"That makes one of you." Greg slowly started Jawn up the stairs. "Let's get you into some comfy jams."

"I y'am in jams," Jawn said, taking the steps one at a time.

"But not in a nappy."

"I DUN'NEE ONE!" Jawn crowed loudly, which Greg tried to shush.

Mycroft stood at the bottom of the steps with Sherlock, watching and shaking his head. Finally, he gave Sherlock a nudge; "You too. Let's get you ready before our meal arrives."

Sherlock didn't move.

"Go on, Sherlock--" he began, but stopped when he noticed the odd look on Sherlock's face. "Sherlock."

"Jawn my...Jawn's my baby," the little detective said, frowning up the stairs. "I should..." he paused, his brows drawing together in a deep 'V'. "...I should be taking care of him."

Damn. "Jawn's in good hands..."

"But not _my_ hands."

"He is in your hands," Mycroft said softly, "with Gregory's and mine underneath yours."

Sherlock blinked, his mind working hard. "Bu' I'm 'posed'ta be the Da'yee."

"You are the Daddy. But this is what family is for. You can trust us to help take care."

"Take care of Jawn."

"I'm going to take care of you too."

Sherlock was misty eyed. They were both going to need an IV of juice, **after** a nappy.

"Shhhhr'yoook!" Jawn hollered from the top of the stairs. " 'Mon!"

"See...he's looking for you," Mycroft said, placing an encouraging hand at Sherlock's lower back. "Let's go get you changed; you'll feel a lot better."

Sherlock looked up at him, still not quite sure of where he stood in either headspace, but let his older brother guide him up the steps and down the hall, to their spare nursery.

Jawn was already on the changing table, stripped completely aside from the temporary splint. "Theeerrreee Shhhr'yock!" he said, and started to reach for him with his bandaged arm until Greg stopped him.

"Yeah, there's Sherlock...I told you he was still here," Greg said. "So he doesn't need to be found, and you need to stay put."

"S'ay pu'," Jawn shook his head yes, then no, then in circles. "Shhr'yoook! 'Mere! I gunna ha'b a g'een arm! Y'ike Hulk!!!!!" Jawn's heels drummed the changing table "Jawn smash!"

"NO!" Mycroft and Greg chorused. "Jawn is going to rest tonight."

"Jawn smash a'morrow?"

"We'll see." Greg quickly got a nappy under Jawn's bum. "I'm guessing green jams?"

"G'een."

Mycroft had easily stripped Sherlock of his clothes as well. "These pants have seen better days." Mycroft said as he examined a hole of the bum cheek of Sherlock's pants.

"My y'ucky pan's." Jawn yawned.

"Yucky, indeed."

Sherlock frowned. "They not yucky!" he insisted.

"Even Jawn noticed they were. And that's very telling, in his condition."

"He meant LUCKY!"

"Don't shout." Mycroft whisked down said 'lucky' pants. "We'll have to wait our turn."

"Almost done," Greg said over his shoulder. " 'ey, Myc?..."

Mycroft sighed. "Yes?"

"Could you just...could you come hold him still for a minute, yeah?"

"What, you can't handle an inebriated toddler?"

"Just come make sure he doesn't roll...Christ!"

"Dun' f'row away my y'ucky pan's!!!" Jawn squealed as he struggled to sit up and defend his property.

"The only person in this room throwing anything is you." Mycroft quipped, and put his hands firmly on Jawn's shoulders.

"Wha' I f'rowed?" Jawn's brow creased.

"A strop. Sherlock..." Mycroft looked over to see his baby brother naked, arms wrapped around his narrow chest and completely miserable. "Oh, Sherlock. Can you be my big helper and pick yourself out some pajamas?"

"Pick some for Jawn too, please?" Greg grunted as he held Jawn's waist and taped one side of his nappy.

"G'EEN!"

"Anything green! Christ, what did they give you?!" Greg struggled to get the other side of Jawn’s nappy taped

"You were the one with him, weren't you paying attention?!"

"I was distracted! It should be in his paperwork!”

Sherlock shuffled over to the wardrobe while Greg and his brother were sniping at each other, and dejectedly looked through the drawers full of clothes. He felt bad. He felt bad that Jawn was hurt, of course, but now Jawn was feeling better and Mycroft and Greg were doing everything for him, and Sherlock felt bad that he wasn't helping more, and he felt bad for feeling bad about Jawn getting the attention from them both, 'specially since he needed it. Sherlock grabbed the first green onesie he saw as well as whatever one was underneath it, and clutched them in his fist while he sucked his thumb and waited.

"Aw, thank you...good boy," Mycroft took the green onesie from him. "We're going to make Jawn part turtle." Mycroft slipped the onesie over Jawn's head, ignoring the little doctor's gnashing teeth. Mycroft caught Jawn's ear, pinching just a little. Jawn whimpered and went still. "I need you to settle down now. I'm going to put your hurt arm into the sleeve."

"S'eeve."

"Precisely." Mycroft gently manipulated Jawn's broken arm into the sleeve of his onesie; the rest was tugged on in seconds.

Greg heaved a sigh as he snapped the onesie in place and helped lift Jawn down from the changing table...just as the sound of the doorbell rang from downstairs. Greg looked at Mycroft; "Damn, that was quick."

"Damn k'ik!"

"Don't repeat that," Greg scolded as he set Jawn on the floor and made him sit. "You stay here...you gonna be okay with them both?" he asked, turning to Mycroft.

Mycroft patted the table, and Sherlock climbed up. "I'll manage."

"Alright...you STAY," he pointed at Jawn like a dog. "Stay!"

"Damn k'ik!" Jawn hooted, a huge grin on his face.

"Christ. I'll be back." Greg disappeared out the door as the doorbell rang again.

"The delivery boy must have an unsatisfactory relationship with his mother to be carrying on like that."

"Damn k'ik!" Jawn shouted. He'd listed to the side...and then backward until he was laying on his back, feet waggling in the air.

"Hush." Mycroft got a nappy under Sherlock's bum and quickly taped him up. He picked up the onesie, humming at the choice before pulling it over Sherlock's head.

Sherlock laid there and sucked his thumb while going through the motions--bum up, bum down, bum up, bum down--as Jawn rattled around the bottom of the changing table, where all of their supplies were kept. Mycroft snapped Sherlock's onesie closed, then bent down to take the bottle of baby powder that Jawn had picked up, but thankfully (frustratingly for him) couldn't figure out how to get open with only one hand.

"That's not for you," he said in response to the pissed-off squawking that followed. "Once again, Uncle Gregory was wrong in his assessment."

"G'eg w'ong? Sherlock mumbled, and sat up.

"Never you mind. It's time to eat." Mycroft held Sherlock's hand while he climbed down, then turned his attention back to their little 'patient'. He took Jawn under the arms and tried to lift him to his feet. Jawn stayed limp.

"NO!"

" 'No', what?" Mycroft sighed.

" **NO!** "

Mycroft stood with his hands on his hips, scowling at the little monster rolling himself back and forth on the carpet.

"Jawn," Sherlock said around the thumb in his mouth; "B'eds'icks."

"Where?" Jawn wriggled, struggling to sit up.

"Dow' s'airs, 'mon." Sherlock waggled his fingers at him. Jawn grunted and used his good arm to stand himself up. An arm around his waist kept him from falling over headfirst.

" _ **NO!**_ " Jawn waved Mycroft away and went and held Sherlock's hand. "I wan' b'e's'icks."

"You'll be lucky if that's all you get tonight," Mycroft grumbled under his breath. "Gently, Sherlock."

"Carefu'," Sherlock nodded as he half-dragged, half-carried Jawn out into the hallway and toward the stairs.

Greg was waiting at the downstairs landing, and his eyes visibly widened when he saw Sherlock leading Jawn. He took a step up and was about to protest when Mycroft caught his eye and shook his head...Sherlock had it under control, for now. Greg shut his mouth, but remained at the ready...just in case Jawn stumbled.

"Jawn. S'eps." Sherlock squeezed Jawn's hand. "One s'ep." Jawn wobbled but made it down the step. "Two s'ep." "F'ree s'ep." They proceeded down the steps at a glacial pace, Mycroft behind them and ready to grab the collar of Jawn's shirt, Greg in front ready to scramble and catch him. Neither little boy seemed aware. Counting all 'se'benteem' steps.

Both men let out a breath of relief when Jawn finally reached the last step and made it to solid ground. "Well done!" Greg said as he reached for Jawn's hand.

"I di' y'it!" Jawn cheered as he let go of Sherlock's hand...and then started to clap. Neither man could get to him in time to stop him, but it only took him clapping once before Jawn stopped, looked down at his arm, then back up at Greg...and started to cry.

"Ohhhh, sweetheart." Greg was to him in an instant, wrapping him in a hug.

"Ow, ow, ow, owwwwch." Jawn wailed.

"Yes, I know. You forgot you elbow hurts."

Sherlock stood beside him, fingers shoved in his mouth, crying too. He'd forgotten about Jawn's arm for a moment as well. He hadn't even tried to stop Jawn from clapping.

"Owwch, G'eg. My 'ello rea'yee hur's."

"I know, monkey. Once you have dinner, you can have some more medicine."

"Nooooooooo med'cine!!!"

"It'll take the hurt away, love." Greg kissed the top of Jawn's head and rubbed his back.

"No, no, no, no!" Jawn sobbed into his shoulder, and Greg shushed him.

"Let's go eat our pizza before it gets cold, little man," he said, not willing to argue about medicine anymore at that moment, and guided Jawn into the dining room.

Mycroft came down the last few steps to stand next to Sherlock and, without a word, lifted him up into his arms and held him.

"Jawn, owwie." Sherlock mumbled.

"Everyone will feel better when they have a full tummy." Mycroft didn’t bother placating Sherlock. The poor baby felt guilty and sad. Words weren't going to do much.

"G'eg 'member bis'sits?"

"Let's go check."

"G'eg a c'ot?"

"Shush." Mycroft carried his baby brother into the kitchen.


	3. Chapter 3

The breakfast table was laid out with plates and napkins, and Greg was valiantly trying to pry four breadsticks out of Jawn's greedy little hand.

Mycroft sat Sherlock in the chair next to Jawn and swatted the other boy's hand, making him whine and release his hold. "You didn't think to get the booster?"

Greg was reaching for a bib when the realization stopped him, and he sighed. "Nope, didn't think," he said, pulling the bib down over Jawn's head quickly before the little bugger could dodge it.

"Never mind, we'll manage," Mycroft said, pulling a bib over Sherlock’s head and putting a breadstick on his plate. Greg looked up, about to say something else, and again hesitated when he saw Sherlock's tear-streaked face. He gave Mycroft a questioning look.

"Everyone's having a lot of feelings tonight. And that's quite alright. It's been a tough day."

"I y'ove dis." Jawn waved his chewed on breadstick under Greg's nose.

"It looks yummy. Eat it up." Jawn licked the cheese and garlic off the top of his breadstick and dropped it onto his plate. "I can ha'b mo?" he asked, already reaching into the carton for another stick.

"How about some pizza? We have pepperoni and cheese." Greg caught his wrist and pulled his slobber covered hand away from the rest of the food

"Sh'eese?"

"Yep, I even splurged on extra cheese." Greg opened the top pizza box and picked a medium-sized slice for Jawn's plate, hoping to get him to do more than lick it or pick pepperoni off.

"Y'ooks a'lishis!" Jawn babbled, and began doing exactly that...picking the pieces of pepperoni off. Greg sighed...maybe that was better for now, until the pizza cooled.

"Did you get them juice?" Mycroft asked, peeling the little container of marinara open.

"Ah, no...didn't think about that, either."

"I'll take care of it." Mycroft handed the little tub of sauce to Greg, not missing the grateful look on his tired face. "Keep that safe."

"Wai'! I nee' some!" Jawn picked up his slice of pizza, nothing left but the crust, and tried to shove it in the sauce. "G'eg I nee' sauce! Is dry and 'sgusting!"

"Can I have sauce, too?"

Jawn whipped his head around nearly falling out of his chair. "Sher'yock!"

Greg put a hand on Jawn's arm. "You can both have some; there's plenty to go around," he said, pouring the tiniest amount possible on Jawn's plate.

"Da's not e'nuff!"

"That's plenty, little man...eat your bread." Greg leaned over and poured some on Sherlock's plate. "D'you want your pizza now, baby?"

Sherlock stopped tearing his bread into chunks and leaned forward; "Y'ah, p'eathe," he said, sucking melted butter and parmesan off his fingers.

"Yeah, you and your brother were the ones that wanted this mess." Greg moved the top box and opened the second.

"Is good stuffs!"

"I'll bet." Greg put a heaping slice of pizza on Sherlock's plate.

"I wan' sh'ick'n!" Jawn howled, dropping his pizza crust on the floor and scooping a handful of toppings off the pizza before Greg could stop him.

"Those two are Jawn's pieces, apparently." Greg sighed, quickly closing the box before Jawn could help himself to more. Mycroft nudged his shoulder, handing him an opened beer.

"Bless you." Greg kissed Mycroft's cheek.

"Here, Jawn...juice."

"No! I wan’ G'eg juice."

"This is the same juice Gregory has, only in a cup."

 "Ohhhh! I y'ike it." Jawn took the cup and drank greedily; "a'lishious!!!"

Mycroft leaned over and whispered in Greg's ear for a minute...then Greg nodded. Sherlock was busy taking big, stringy bites out of his pizza when Mycroft came to sit down beside him and set down his cup...he hadn't realized how hungry he was until he'd started smelling it .

"Hey," Mycroft leaned in next to him, still whispering. "Uncle Greg and I have a surprise for you after dinner." Sherlock turned and blinked up at him, still holding his pizza to his mouth. "But shhh...it's a special helper surprise."

"Spe'shull?" Sherlock whispered back.

"You'll see. Eat your food." Mycroft gave him a quick kiss on the forehead, then waited for Greg to get his food before serving himself.

Now that Jawn's belly was full, the effect of the pain medication and the stress began to take their toll, and soon had him feeling sleepy. His face drooped dangerously close to his pilfered pizza toppings.

"What would I have to do to bribe you to give him his p-i-l-l-s?"

"You can't afford me." Mycroft took another bite of his pizza. Greg chuckled and rubbed Jawn's back, rousing the little doctor.

"B'e's'icks?"

"You had three. Is your tummy full?"

"Yea. A'ways room fa mo' b'e's'icks."

"True enough. You can have another breadstick, And this whole cup of sauce..."

"I y'ove sauce."

"If you'll take your medicine."

"Noooooo G'eg. Just sauce, p'ease." Jawn's broken heart showed on his face. His G'eg had tried to trick him.

"It'll be much faster if you just take them," Greg said, shaking out two of the admittedly large tablets into his hand. "Then your arm won't hurt, and you can have a piece of that big, chocolate chip biscuit over there."

"Choc'ate?" Jawn asked, sticking his greasy fingers in his mouth.

"Uh-huh, chocolate...and it's warm, so it's all soft and gooey." Greg held the pills out in his hand. "Just really quick, sweetheart."

While Greg was tempting Jawn, Sherlock sat back in his chair with his sippy-cup, digesting for a moment. He reached over and patted his brother’s leg to get his attention. "My'coff?"

"Hmm?"

"I can has bis'sit, too?"

"Of course you can, dear-heart."

"Sher'yock ta'es me'cine too?"

"No. Sherlock's elbow doesn't hurt. Jawn's elbow hurts," Greg said.

 "Naw so ba'," Jawn poked at his elbow, trying like hell not to wince. "I okay. I dun' nee' it. F'ank you."

"Jawn..." The tone of Greg's voice was a warning. Jawn wasn't going to get spanked right now, but taking his medication was non-negotiable.

"Jawn," Sherlock tapped his shoulder; "why nah take med'cine?"

"Is 'sgusting."

"Wha'f you taked one med'cine, had lots of bis'sit and then taked other med'cine."

"Then mo' bis'sit?"

"Ob’ious."

Jawn chewed his lip for a moment before nodding. "Tha's a goo' plan.”

"But you have to promise, with all your heart, that you'll take the second one when we tell you to," Greg added.

Jawn made a face and leaned back in his chair. " 'kaaaaaaaay," he fussed.

"Good lad." Greg (while being very mindful of his fingers) placed the pill into Jawn's waiting mouth.

Jawn made the most horrible grimace and started gulping his juice until it was gone. "Bis-sit! BIS-SIT!"

Mycroft rolled his eyes, then leaned towards Sherlock. "Do you want another piece of pizza first, or are you ready for your biscuit?"

Sherlock looked towards the box and craned his neck. "Ummm...y'ittle piece?"

Mycroft gave Sherlock another slice of pizza, eyeing another piece for himself before closing the box.

"Here you go, sprout," Greg sat the piece of cookie in front of Jawn, frowning as he shoved a fist full of it into his mouth. "That's...alarming."

"G'eg?" Sherlock peeped.

"Yes, baby?"

"Can ha'b more juice? P'ease?" Sherlock asked, holding up his cup.

"Yea, a'course." Greg took Jawn's cup to refill as well. The little doctor was going to need it for his second pill.

 Sherlock took his second slice crust-first and rolled it like a sushi roll before eating it.

Mycroft raised his eyebrow and considered telling him 'no'...but then thought better. At least he was eating, and if Mycroft knew his brother (which he did), then this was probably the first time he'd eaten all day. "Is that a good biscuit, Jawn?"

"Y'ah," Jawn mumbled, his mouth and hands covered in melted chocolate and cookie crumbs.

"It's time for your second pill." Greg handed Sherlock his cup and sat Jawn's down in front of him.

"Nooooooo, G'eg, p'ease no?"

Greg caught a very dirty little fist before Jawn could scrub his eyes with it. "We made a deal. You want more biscuit?"

"Yea, p'ease."

"Then take this," Greg held the last pill to Jawn's mouth. The little doctor thrashed weakly in his seat for a moment before opening his mouth and accepting the pill. He quickly swallowed and guzzled his juice, having to stop and take deep gulping breaths.

"Bis...bis'sit?"

Greg put a thinner slice on his plate...the entire area of the dinner table around Jawn was dirty and smeared, as was the child himself. Greg (or Mycroft, if he could happen to sweet talk his lover into it) was going to have to take a rag and soapy water and scrub him down in a whores' bath at the sink.

Sherlock leaned back with his cup and watched the spectacle Jawn was making, and Mycroft noticed his eyelids starting to look dark and heavy.

Mycroft broke off a piece of cookie, then broke off a small piece from that and held it to Sherlock's lips...it would be awfully sad for the baby to fall asleep before getting his dessert **and** his surprise.

Sherlock accepted the bite, and the next. "Thas a'licious," Sherlock yawned around the spout of his cup.

Jawn was nearly asleep, again. His fist full of cookie poised in front of his mouth, as his head bobbed forward sporadically.

"I did the pills so you’re cleaning him up, right?" Greg grinned at Mycroft, all teeth. "I'll even clean up Sherlock and put away the left overs!"

"I love you because you are terrible at bargaining." Mycroft kissed the side of Sherlock's head and stood up. "Come on Jawn, it's time to get cleaned up and lie down in your comfy bed."

"No be'." Jawn pulled his eyes open for a moment before they dipped closed again. Mycroft took off his bib, marveling at the mess down the front of his onesie.

"We might'nt as well have bothered." Mycroft scooped the little doctor out of his chair, carrying him back to chest out of the kitchen.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Meanwhile, Greg had put all of the leftover pizza into one box, and swept the trash into the empty one. He stacked the untouched biscuit on top of the pizza box, then carted the whole thing off to put away in the fridge. He did the same with the plates and silverware, leaving those in the sink for now, and then turned back to Sherlock, who was all but asleep in his seat.

"Hello sweet boy," Greg cooed as he pulled Sherlock's bib off over his head, then lifted him out of his chair. Sherlock snuffled and stretched, then curled around Greg and laid his head on his shoulder.

Greg carried Sherlock over to the sink, where he sat him on the counter. "We need to clean your face and hands, love."

"A'w c'ean," Sherlock mumbled.

"Nearly." Greg almost hated to do it, but he managed to get Sherlock to sit up while he wet a paper towel and wiped the little ones' hands, and then his mouth.

Sherlock was fine with having his hands washed...in fact, he loved having his hands and fingers gently rubbed--but when it came time to wash his face, his nose wrinkled at the wet touch.

"N'ahh, G'eg!"

"Almost, almost... _annnd_ we're done. All clean. Such a good job!" Greg praised, hoping to bring a smile back onto Sherlock's pouty little face.

"I dun' y'ike tha', G'eg."

"I know. But you don't want to get sauce on your blankie and pillows, do you?"

Sherlock pursed his lips, seriously considering.

"No, you do not. It would be itchy and uncomfortable. And it'll attract bugs. Then Myc will be mad at both of us."

"I y'ike bugs."

Greg rolled his eyes; "Of course you do," he sighed, and helped Sherlock hop of the counter. "Once Mycroft gets Jawn to bed, you can have your surprise."

"Wha' is it?!?!" Sherlock clapped his hands, tiredness forgotten.

"You'll see." Greg swatted his backside and urged him towards the stairs where Mycroft had just reached the top with Jawn in his arms, and was continuing to carry him towards the nursery.

Greg climbed up after Sherlock but when they both got to the top, instead of being allowed to follow his brother and his Jawn, Greg put his hand on Sherlock's lower back and steered the little detective towards his and Mycroft's bedroom. "No, this way."

Sherlock looked back at him, puzzled. "Y'his way?"

"Uh-huh."

"Bu' Jawn..."

"Is sleeping in the crib tonight, yes."

"I s'eepin' in'na crib, too?" Sherlock frowned; they always snuggled up together in the crib. It was cozy, and they could whisper and giggle until they fell asleep.

Greg didn't answer; he simply guided Sherlock into his and Mycroft's room.

Mycroft followed them not a minute later. "He was out before his head hit the pillow."

"I din'na kiss him g'ni'e." Sherlock's eyes started to water.

"You can kiss him good morning twice to make up for it."

"Ca' I do it now?"

"No, sweetheart...Jawn needs to sleep. Did you turn on the baby monitor?" Greg asked Mycroft, who had started to undress.

"Of course I did."

"Bu'd I be quiet!" Sherlock begged again, clearly distressed at the thought of not saying goodnight to his Jawn!

Greg took one look at him, and sighed. "Alright, one kiss through the bars... _one_ kiss, understand?"

Sherlock nodded quickly and turned to run to the nursery, but Greg's hand stopped him. "You mind getting everything set up till we get back?" he asked Mycroft.

"No," said the other man as he unbuttoned his shirt. "But if you wake the other one up, so help me-"

 "Yeah, yeah, yeah, we won't."

Sherlock held Greg's hand during the short walk across the hallway. The door was mostly closed, letting a sliver of light into the room from the hallway. Greg pushed the door open, slowly.

Jawn was on his back, sore arm slung across his chest, snoring lightly. Sherlock made to bolt into the room, but Greg pulled him up short. "Remember. One kiss through the bars. If you wake Jawn, you won't get your special treat," Greg whispered.

"I dun' wan wake him. Jawn nee's s'eep." Sherlock whispered back, hurt making his voice wobble.

"I just wanna be clear."

"Is c'ear." Sherlock shook off Greg's hand and crept into the nursery. He bent forward and whispered something to Jawn before softly kissing his hand (the only bit he could reach). Sherlock came back to Greg, glowing; "F'ank you."

"You're a sweetheart," Greg whispered, scooping Sherlock up. "Anything else you want to grab while we're in here? We're not making a second trip."

Sherlock looked around, then pointed over to the cots he and Jawn used when they didn't sleep in the crib.

Greg carried him over, and Sherlock leaned down to grab his fuzzy yellow Pooh blanket and a stuffed bunny that lived at Mycroft's house, since both Bumble and Gladstone were back home at the flat.

"All set?"

Sherlock chewed on his bunny's ear and nodded.

"Good stuff." Greg carried him out of the nursery, leaving the door slightly ajar again, and headed back into the main bedroom where Mycroft was already in bed and waiting.

"Thur'pithe?" Sherlock lisped.

"You're watching a movie with your Uncle and me. Surprise."

Greg made a face at him. "Bit anticlimactic, Myc."

"I y'ove it!" Sherlock wiggled until Greg set him down and then belly flopped onto the massive bed, half swimming to settle up close to Mycroft. " 'Mon, G'eg! Mo'bie!"

Mycroft stuck his tongue out at his partner as he settled Sherlock against the mound of pillows at the head of the bed.

"Right. What are we watching?" Greg began to undo the cuffs of his shirt.

"Preferably something short," Mycroft yawned.

Sherlock snuggled in at his brother's side. "C'n I pick?"

"Yes, you can. That's the other part of the surprise."

Sherlock's eyes widen. "Wha'deber I wan'?"

"Whatever you want."

"E'ben sk'aree?"

"Even scary."

Greg shucked down his jeans, leaving him in just his boxers, and climbed into bed. "You sure that's, uh..?"

Mycroft nodded. "Whatever he wants. It's a special treat."

"That's fine. You're getting up with him." Greg dumped his watch on the end table.

"Yes, dear. So, what shall it be, Sherlock?"

The little detective twisted a curl around his finger. Rare treats were tough. 'Cause you didn't want to waste it. "I y'ike Cora'yine."

"Christ. Maybe you'll be staying up with me."

"I enjoy that film as well." Mycroft queued up the film.

The movie began and, no less than 15 minutes in...before the story had even really started, really... Mycroft was asleep.

Sherlock, who was curled over on Mycroft's chest, was quietly watching the movie...but when his older brother started snoring (which he DID, no matter how much he insisted that he didn't), he turned over and switched to Greg's chest so he could still hear.

Greg smirked. "You and me both, love," he said, putting his arm around Sherlock and curling his fingers in his hair.

"Jawn cas' a'morrow?" Sherlock asked around the thumb in his mouth.

"Yes. The swelling already looked better at dinner."

Sherlock nodded, Jawn looked a lot better than when he'd been crying on the nursery floor.

"Mycroft said you had a cast on your arm when you were teeny tiny."

"Yea, was blue...Jawn gunna wear a rubbish bag in the ba’ff tub. He's gunna ha'd it."

"Maybe we can decorate it with stickers."

“My'coff say 'no'."

Greg looked down at him. "Said 'no' to what?"

"No stuffs un'yess Jawn say so."

"Well, yeah...that's a good rule, I suppose." Leave it to Mycroft to take the only fun out of having a cast.

"Gonna draw fw'ogs on it."

"I bet he'll like that." Greg started to pat his back, hoping to get Sherlock to sleep so he could turn off this creepy excuse for a children's movie.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Greg startled awake as the 'Other Mother' let out a mighty, ear-splitting wail.

Sherlock was asleep, sprawled between him and Mycroft.

The noise happened again before Greg looked around and realized that the movie was on the menu screen. "Jawn," he groaned, then rolled out of bed and took the baby monitor with him. No need wake up those lumps.

"Sweetheart, you're okay," Greg began to croon before he was even through the door.

Jawn was up on his knees in the crib, his sweaty forehead wedged against the bars. The second he saw Greg, he began to babble nonsense and make grabby hands, ready to be picked up.

"No, no, no, don't reach with that hand, love." Greg stood at the bars and wiped at Jawn's face, shushing him.

"Ou'd, ou'd, wan' ou'd," Jawn cried over and over as he reached through the bars with his good arm to clutch at Greg's shirt.

"Sh-sh-sh, it's okay...okay, just sit back and let Uncle Greg open it, sweetheart." Poor lad's pain meds must have worn off; that was the only reason Greg could figure that would have woken him up out of that haze.

"P'ease, p'ease, p'ease..." Jawn let Greg nudge him out of the way of the bars, but the second they were down he was right there, trying to climb Greg's front.

"Easy, sweetboy...let's get you some medicine and a bottle," Greg patted his bottom; "-and a fresh nappy. You'll feel much better." Greg put an arm under Jawn's bottom and scooped him up, being mindful of his splint.

Jawn rubbed his wet face against Greg's shoulder, still mumbling.

"What woke you up, bruiser...hm?" Greg asked, and carried him over to the changing table, and...just as he thought would happen...the moment he started to set Jawn down, the poor little thing began to cry again. "It's just to change your bum, little love! I promise I'll pick you back up when I'm done!"

"U-up G'eg, G'eg G'eg G'eg, up, up p'ease, uppie!" Jawn wiped his hand down his face, smearing tears, sweat, and drool all over.

"I will, I will, I _promise_ I will, just as soon as we get your bum dry.”

 Jawn was too busy crying and begging to be picked up to notice as Greg cleaned him up and got a fresh nappy under his bum. "This works a lot better when you help out...remind me to thank you for that later," Greg said, mostly to himself. He got the nappy closed and immediately pulled Jawn to his chest; "See, all done. You were so brave." Greg scooped him up again, and Jawn clung to him.

"B-b'ave," Jawn snuffled.

"Very brave." Greg kissed his forehead while he stood there and rocked him for a bit...he didn't want to try and put him back down now, not while he was still worked up, but he was going to have to when they went downstairs for a bottle. Damn. If he'd left the baby monitor in their bedroom, he could've woken Mycroft up and had him go make one...

Wait.

He could still go wake Mycroft up.

"Shhh, we're okay. We're going to go get Mycroft to bring us a bottle, and your medicine."

"Wa'e My'coff."

Lordy. Being in pain must have knocked him younger than he'd been in ages. "Yup, wake Mycroft." Greg brought him into the bedroom and went around to Mycroft's side.

Sherlock had migrated and was filling both his, and Greg's portion of the bed. "Myc. Myc, wake up, Myc."

"My'coff," Jawn whispered, not lifting his head from Greg's shoulder.

"Is the house on fire?"

"No."

"Then why...?" One hazel eye cracked open and regarded them for a moment before he huffed a sigh and sat up.

"Could you be a lifesaver and go make us a bottle?"

Mycroft sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his eyes. "And you can't because...?"

"I can't put him down."

"You _won’t_ put him down; there's a difference."

"Not unless we all want our morning to start bright and early at three am."

Mycroft sighed and stood up. "Remember how I said you couldn't afford me?"

"...Yeah?"

"You'll be paying for this one for a _looong_ time."

"Worth it." Greg immediately put himself into Mycroft's spot on the bed, with Jawn still huddled in his lap.

"You're moving the second I get back."

Greg just snorted and cuddled Jawn closer. "There we are, sweet boy. You've been changed, and now you're gunna have some milk and we'll get to sleep for at least three more hours. Preferably five."

"No down, no down, no down," Jawn groaned.

"I'm not putting you down."

"P'ease, p'ease, p'ease."

Greg shushed him and rubbed his back. "We're all fine. Just relax."

"No down."

"Yeah, yeah, no down." Greg kissed Jawn's clammy forehead. "Does your arm hurt, sweetness?"

"Y'ah. Hur'ds."

"We're gonna make that all better really soon."

Beside them, Sherlock snuffled and pulled the blankets up around his neck, and Jawn turned to look. "Sher'yock?"

"Yeah, that's Sherlock...shh, he's sleepin'."

"S'eepin'?"

"Yeah, let's let him keep sleepin'."

"Why nah wif me?" Jawn's lip wobbled.

Ah. There it was. "Cause Sherlock is a roly poly bug in his sleep. We didn't want him to bump your arm by accident."

"Assi'den'."

"Yes. Sherlock would never bump your arm on purpose. But it doesn't matter if it was an accident, it would still hurt our Jawn."

"Oh." The little doctor was quiet for a moment; "I dun' care if hur'ded. I wan' s'eep wif Sher'yock." He nodded, decision made.

Greg hummed noncommittally and patted his back. Unfortunately, it wasn't Jawn's decision.

Mycroft came stumbling back into the room minutes later, a bottle in one hand and Jawn's medication in the other. "Trade."

Greg had nearly fallen asleep again himself, while sitting there patting the baby with his eyes closed. He got up begrudgingly.

Jawn sat up. "Where goin'?"

"We're gonna go sit in the rocking chair for a bit. Just while you take your bottle."

"Don' wan'id."

"Shh, sure you do." Greg carried him out of the room, motioning for Mycroft to follow.

Greg went into the nursery and settled himself in the rocking chair, with Jawn cradled in his lap.

"I don' wan'id. I wan' be wif, Sher'yock."

Greg took the proffered pills from Mycroft and held them to Jawn's lips. The little doctor scrunched his face; "No fank oo," he hissed through his teeth.

"Greg says yes. Quickly now and you can have your milk."

"I sweetened it with honey." Mycroft shook the bottle for emphasis. He was nearly asleep on his feet, eyes closed and swaying.

Jawn looked between them and found no reprieve, so he quickly took his pills.

Greg swiftly took the bottle from Mycroft and popped it into his mouth."Mycroft is going to go keep our spot in bed warm for us."

"Thank god." Mycroft was already stumbling out the door.

"Debt paid in full!" Greg called after him.

" _SHHH_!" Mycroft hissed back, and left.

Greg sighed and leaned back in the chair. He was getting too old for this. He sat there and held Jawn's bottle for him, pushing the chair back and forth with his foot...then, he felt a pair of warm hands close over his, and he smiled as he cracked an eye open and looked down to see Jawn staring up at him, hands clasped over his.

"Close your eyes," Greg whispered, giving him a squeeze, and showed him by example.

*******

He must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew, someone was whispering his name and patting his knee.

"G'eg?...G'eg?"

Greg opened his eyes a crack. He was still in the nursery. Jawn was sacked out in his lap, and both of his legs where asleep.

"G'eg?"


	6. Chapter 6

"Why aren't you in bed?"

"B'eakfas'," Sherlock peeped from the floor.

"What time is it?"

"Time fa' b'eakfas'."

Greg carefully and _oh,_ so slowly scooted to the edge of the rocking chair and stood up, groaning softly as pins and needles ran down his legs.

"I ca' help."

"Is your brother awake?"

"N'ah yet. I ca' help."

"Then why are you--?!" Greg started, then huffed and sat back down as the fuzzy feeling in his legs intensified the moment he tried to take a step.

Sherlock was suddenly on his feet in front of him. "I help. Gi'b me Jawn," he whispered and, before Greg could protest, was already lifting Jawn out of Greg's arms.

" _Sherlock!_ " he whispered fiercely.

"I know, I know!...I careful! I ca' do it!" Sherlock lifted Jawn bridal style, hugging him close, and carried him the few steps the crib.

Greg hissed through his teeth as he watched Sherlock put Jawn down. One jerky movement, and Jawn would be up and squalling. But, true to his word, Sherlock was careful.

"Good job, sweet boy." Greg praised, and forced himself to stand up and hobble over to Sherlock.

"My bay-bee," Sherlock murmured, then pulled a blanket over Jawn and placed a kiss on his forehead.

"Yeah, your baby...now come on, and let's let him sleep. You shouldn't be awake yet, either."

"Couldn' s'eep anymore."

"Why not?" Greg ushered Sherlock out of the nursery, limping along behind him while the blood returned to his feet.

Sherlock shrugged.

"Well, it is far too early to be up just because 'you don't know'."

"B'eakpas' time."

"No. Sleep time."

"Bu' I'm hung'gy," Sherlock whinged.

"Shhhhh..." Greg caught his wrist before he could make for the stairs. "You are not going to wake everyone else up on a whim!" At the sound of his own words, Greg winced; the lack of sleep was making him harsher than he'd like. "You don't want to snuggle with me?" Greg made a pouty face at Sherlock.

"Snuggle, G'eg?"

"How'm I gunna get any rest with my Sherlock?"

It looked for a moment like Sherlock was going to balk at the manipulation. He was little. Not an idiot.

Greg sighed. "Please, Sherlock? I promise we'll get up in a little while and we'll all have a nice, big breakfast together."

Sherlock tucked his thumb in his mouth and looked longingly down the stairs...then sighed as well, and reached for Greg's hand.

"Good boy, such a good boy!" Greg pulled Sherlock close and wrapped an arm around his waist, then kissed his cheek. "I promise, no matter what Mycroft says...you're going to get a piece of that biscuit for breakfast."

"An' pee'za."

"Of course, as much pizza as you want."

" _Sauce_ ," Sherlock stage whispered as he sneaked back into the bedroom behind Greg.

"We'll order some more." Greg whispered back, urging Sherlock onto the bed. The bedside clock read four thirty. Christ. "But not until seven."

"Se'ben?" Sherlock yawned.

"Yes. Not until 'se'ben'. If it's not 'til eight, you and Jawn can split that biscuit." Greg's eyes closed the second his head touched his pillow.

"Rea'yee?!?!"

"Yes, really. Now shhh..." Greg brought up the covers around him and Sherlock both and cuddled him close. "Now, go back to sleep."

"I y'ike sauce," Sherlock mumbled.

Greg ran his hand up and down Sherlock's back. "Shhh."

"I y'ike bis'sits."

"I know y'do. Shhh."

"I y'ike pee'za."

"Sherlock, _shhhh!_ "

"I y'ike G'eg."

Greg could feel his eyes start to sting a little. Damn. When did he become so soppy? Definitely the lack of sleep.

"I like you too." Greg kissed the top of his head.

"I'd like it if you'd both shut up."

"Don't be rude, Mycroft."

"Y'ah, My'coff."

"You hush, too." Greg laid on his back and scooped and pulled Sherlock on top of his chest so he could pat his back. "Everyone, go back to sleep."

Within moments, Sherlock was gently snoring against Greg's sternum.

"If you feed them that huge biscuit for breakfast, you're watching them by yourself tomorrow."

Greg chuckled; "You were supposed to be sleeping."

"Because I wouldn't notice it in the morning when they're both strung out on sugar?" Mycroft grumbled into his pillow.

"Wake them up at seven and you won't have to worry about it."

"No one's getting up at seven," Mycroft groused.

"Then they get the biscuit. ‘Sides, Jawn's gonna be hopped up on pills all day tomorrow, and the worst thing Sherlock wants to do when he's hyper is cling to your side and do loads of crafts. Easy-peasy."

"Don't ever say 'easy peasy' again."

"Easy Peasy Lemon Squeeze Me."

"Shut up and go to sleep."

"Love you too, dearest."

*******


End file.
